


Yesterday

by KEBKEN



Series: Average [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Backstory, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Moving On, everyone from Summerset is fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KEBKEN/pseuds/KEBKEN
Summary: A dark past might not always lead to a better future but it will make a man wiser anyways. The typical tale of an altmer Dragonborn fleeing from his home and moving on.Probably not completely accurate when it comes to any mentioned lore.





	Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Small and compact shorts about Helds past. Big thanks too my good friend Batty who beta read everything for me, you are the best!!!! <3 <3
> 
> I love my Dovahkiin to bits and really want his storyline to be about growing through bad times and being able to find happiness even when one has been through bad times.

****

 

**I. Birth**

 

A wheel tumbling down a hill will not stop on its own. Held would often wonder if he was a wheel rolling down or a wanderer climbing up the mountain.

Being born is not hard for anyone. The responsibility for that lies on our parents, they might feel the pain or joy while we ourselves in that moment are unable to feel any comprehensive emotion, we only exist.

Consequently, when Held was born under the name of Eralas, into a noble family of Altmer he did not know how he himself nor everyone else felt. Some might have known how they had felt during that day: proud, happy and perhaps worried, but none of them had known how destiny had been breathing down their neck even then.

The death of his mother that had happened when Eralas had still been a child on the verge of growing up, bore heavy on his mind. How could it not, especially when it had been such a wrongly intimate thing. His mother had been his safe haven. She had been the one person he could be himself around.

His father had never had the connection to him that his mother had. When they were around each other, Held was not allowed to make any mistakes. Only mortals made mistakes. Anything related to mortality was disgusting and definitely not wanted.

So, when his mother had killed herself, a part of Eralas had left with her. What a proud woman she had been, rather dying than living for ideals she could not stand any longer. How noble had it been of her to leave her son behind on his own, with all the people she had despised for so long in secret now.

Eralas might not have remembered how he had felt upon birth, but Held knew how he felt the moment he had been born under the shadow of his mother’s slowly swinging corpse.

He would always remember the blood dripping down her bare feet. How it hit the floor as if it was trying to get him to sing a song along to its cruel rhythm.

He would always remember how his father had walked into the room after he had heard his son’s pathetic screams and dirty sobbing. How that man’s long and straight hair had seemed a bit out of place. How every emotion had left that man’s face when he saw what used to be his wife.

Held also never forgot the anger that overtook them both at that moment.

The child screamed at his father about how it had been his fault. “She’s dead because you’d never let us be! You’re the one who killed her by joining the Dominion and talking to her about how much you hate everything and everyone!”

He could never forget how his father had slammed the door to the room with Held still inside. How he had locked it and how Held had been stuck there until a servant opened the door to get rid of the corpse a day later.

 

He’d never forget how cold his father’s eyes had been ever since.

 

**II. Ignorance**

 

Held’s sister had always been closer to their father, but even when they had fought, often they were still siblings who treasured each other very much. That is, until his father had interfered at one point.

The boy, almost a man at that point, had already realised long ago that he would never be his father’s official successor. That had always been his sisters place, but that had never troubled him. He didn’t want to be part of a kingdom of glass.

When it became official that his sister would be in charge of the family once their father was gone, she began to change more and more. She had become like the man Held had despised for years. The man who had taken his mother had now also turned his sister into someone he couldn’t recognise; at that point he had given up on holding onto being a good son.

As time had gone on, Held was out of his home more often than not, sleeping around and smuggling goods left and right where he could. He was building up a fortune in no time. It had become common knowledge in the underground of the Summerset Islands that Held, who had actually started using that name as an alias by now, was one of the most promising rookies they had had in years.

But his depression and hate fuelled life in the underground had also left him with an empty chest that, no matter how many riches or lovers he would get his hands on, would never be filled.

And maybe, that had been exactly why two of the Daedric Princes had taken notice of the young man then. One because of his love for chaotic debauchery only to please oneself and the other, because he had felt that emptiness himself once in another life. Or maybe, it had just been fate pushing them towards him without anyone’s knowledge.

Sanguine had enjoyed seeing the Altmer fall further and further down the hole of distracting pleasures in a desperate attempt to forget about the other side of his life. The Daedric Prince had enjoyed spending time with Held from time to time too. But no matter how many nights they may have spent together, it would take the Elf years to realise who he had been dealing with back then.

Sheogorath’s interest in the thief had always been more of a secret that only the madgod himself and his servant Haskill knew about. The emptiness experienced combined with the hands of fate guiding one’s life into misery was something the white-haired man could relate to better than he would’ve ever admitted. But, he was a madgod and when Held’s life had become stale and too pathetic and uninteresting to watch, the Prince gave the wheels of fate a good strong kick.

The High Elf’s father’s fury had been ever growing during the time the young man had lived his life away without notice. So, when the next grand event had happened at their home, the older man confronted his son.

Both had been dressed in richly coloured long tunics that had been put together out of many layers of expensive cloth. Golden hairpins were glittering in their long and flowing hair as they stood opposite of each other on the cool balcony, away from all the music and talking happening in another wing of the building.

The normally dark night had been lit up by the moonlight, getting reflected by all the scenery around them. But none of that could stand against the darkness of their hatred spreading, it’s cold blanket over the both of them. Accusations were spit out and a rage that had been building up for years had been set free.

Then, as fast as the argument had broken out, it had stopped. Held could not remember much of the event but he could recollect how his father’s dark waves of magic had taken a hold of him then, and how he had tried to fight the shadow possessing him in a pathetic panic.

He could not remember falling down the balcony. Nor did he remember how his face got cut up. But, when he woke up in the forest surrounding the estate he sure felt the pain of it.

 

**III. Traveller**

 

After the incident, Held had never returned to his old home. But during the time spent hiding away from his father, he grew closer than ever to one of his old fleeting acquaintances, a Wood Elf named Jul. The man was unusual with his black-yellow eyes and affliction with vampirism, however Held had long stopped being in a position to judge.

His old name had fallen out of use by now, his hair had been cut short and the bottom half of his face was now being hidden behind bandages. In addition to this, his best friend who was at his side during this time was a sarcastic, vampiric assassin.

They did not stay in the land of the Altmer for long before they went to travel the continent together for years. But, they did not stay together forever, as their paths began to split and Held started to settle down in Morrowind while his friend went on to Cyrodiil.

Though Held had stayed on the mainland of Morrowind for a bit, he had soon strayed to a separate small island by the name of Solstheim where he met one of his future closest friends, a Dark Elf Mercenary named Teldryn Sero.

But even when Held had found a home and friends that he enjoyed spending time with, his fingers had grown used to proving their finesse over the years. Living on a small island with one major city resulted in everyone knowing all the villagers, so making use of his talents would have been ill-advised.

So, Held left and a few weeks later the Elf had found himself in Cyrodiil, where he would stay with the Thieves Guild for the following years.

Over the years, Held grew. No longer was he consumed by his anger and hate, however instead, the man had used his years travelling to reflect and put his own past into perspective.

One could see much misery in travelling. If there was one thing that had stayed the same in every land Held had visited, it was the stories the small people would tell about their lives. By now, he knew how a terrible parent could destroy a family. He knew what neglect looked like; he had seen people cling onto a small glimmer of hope, even when they knew the flame of victory was slowly dwindling.

He knew what he had gone through shouldn’t have happened to anyone, but it had, and he couldn’t have changed a thing.

It wasn’t fine, Held himself probably still wasn’t either. However, he had come to terms with the situation and had long since decided that his life was more than his past. He had stopped drowning in his trauma induced guilt with alcohol and sex, and instead had actually made friends and had secured a stable job (even if it was not an honourable or even legal one).

He had stopped living for the sake of others and started doing what made him complete, he had started climbing the mountain that beforehand seemed as if it had no end.

Staying in one place for a long period of time however, had never been something the Altmer had been fond of. Naturally, when he heard one of his guild-mates say under their breath, “I swear, we’re going to have a problem if the guild in Skyrim continues as pathetically as it has the last few years.”

He realised that he could not resist an opportunity so perfect to travel once more.


End file.
